


Beginnings

by xkawaiix



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2017-08-18
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:52:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xkawaiix/pseuds/xkawaiix
Summary: Kathryn reflects on the evolution of her relationship with Chakotay.





	Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Set way after the series. If you read the novels, you can either pretend Before Dishonor never happened, or imagine this is set during a peaceful time after Kristen Beyer fixed that hot mess.

There was a bated breath as it began.

Kathryn Janeway, along with the rest of the female population remained entranced by the melody emanating from his guitar. Two young female Starfleet Officers sat two seats to her right, caught in a cloud of swoon and adoration for her dark, mysterious, and very, very handsome first officer. Former Marquis First Officer.

Talent night blossomed the beginnings of their family, she would learn as she looked back to that night 20 years later. It also planted the irresistible ivy that would entangle them together. Forever.

An older woman now, she catches herself staring with complete adoration and wonder at her husband. They were so many things: Enemies. Officers. Shipmates. Friends. Best friends. Lovers.

They are still so many things. All things, merged together.

Quarrels over blanket-hogging during the winter. Captain and crewman during summer sails on Lake George. Comedian, he with his dimples and her with her feigned hurt at his strange and sometimes incomprehensible humor. Shoulders for nightmares and bad days at the office. One, when they held hands. When they linked arms. When they made love. When blue eyes met brown.

Where did one begin and where did one end?

She knows when he tells her he found his guitar at Sekaya's house. He brings it home one day when he returns from work, and lays it against the coat closet carelessly as he reaches to kiss his wife  _hello, love_.

Greetings aside, she reaches down and unzips the case. He tells her how he came to learn the guitar. And she lets him, again, without the slightest quip or knowing-smirk because they've both grown older.

He holds the uncased guitar in his large palm by the handle. She takes it from him, and cradles it reverently in her grasp. The strings are dusty, the insides are dusty, and predictably when she strums it slowly the notes are whining.

As she studies the instrument, her husband moves to the kitchen. There is a _sh-hah_ of the replicator, the sudden aroma of coffee (black), and the clacking of iced jasmine tea. He is surprised when he walks back towards the living room to find her still standing there with the acoustic relic in her hands.

He calls her name.

"Can you fix it," she asks. Blue eyes meet brown as she walks over to the table where now he sits.

He smiles those devilish dimples (so hypnotizing, so delicious) and sips his tea as she takes the seat next to him. "Sure," he says and takes the guitar. "I'll have it tuned when you get back."

"Excellent," she says concisely. She stands, fiddles with her hair and combadge, and reaches for the thermos of hot coffee. Her pace quickens to that of a Vice Admiral, their five minutes of togetherness delayed by his captaincy and postponed by her admiralty. But they've adjusted, fleeting moments treasured as moments regardless, especially with Death agitated by their abilities to reset timelines, and their impervious will to come home to each other, alive and well.

She lands a lingering kiss on his lips, hands stroking the salt-and-pepper colored hair cropped on his head. And then she heads out.

Doors hiss open.

"Kathryn?"

She stops and turns to look at him quizzically.

"Lessons not included."

Dimples flash again, as they have done often since their marriage. She frowns and sticks her tongue out in feigned distaste.

Sometimes, they are also like children. Lighthearted and teasing, like the people they had been playing and dancing on talent night.

When she leaves, Chakotay wonders where they began.

His knee bumps his guitar and he remembers.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This is almost 8 years old, but I found it in a notebook at a critical time in my creative life. I've been in a very self-deprecating mood in terms of my career and my creative abilities, but I'm proud of this, and what I was able to accomplish when I had more faith in my voice. I hope you guys liked this too.


End file.
